


By the Light of the Burning World

by MarsDragon



Category: Fatal Fury
Genre: Character study through porn, Fight Sex, Hand Jobs, Held Down, M/M, Sparring or Fighting as Foreplay, Twisted Display of Affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:07:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23625103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsDragon/pseuds/MarsDragon
Summary: Minutes later, when he was barely through the letter from the editor for the issue, a fist enveloped in cold blue flames slammed into the stone above his head."It's unusual to see you here, my friend," Grant said.
Relationships: Kain R. Heinlein/Grant
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	By the Light of the Burning World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pirotess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirotess/gifts).



Training finished for the day, Grant settled back against the pillar with the latest issue of _Clay Times_. There was an article on free sculpture he had been looking forward to; he felt like his own efforts in the area were lacking something and was hoping for some advice. The magazine also promised a set of in-depth articles about relief, which Grant had been interested in trying. Lit by the flickering torches, he began to read.

Minutes later, when he was barely through the letter from the editor for the issue, a fist enveloped in cold blue flames slammed into the stone above his head.

Grant looked up, the flames dancing along the edge of his mask, to see Kain staring down at him. There was something strange and wild in his friend's red eyes, something that bounced between Kain's usual detached calm and a desperate mania. He put the magazine away and stood up.

"It's unusual to see you here, my friend," Grant said.

"It has been a long time, hasn't it?" A brief self-effacing smile crossed Kain's face before he stepped back and shifted into his deceptively nonchalant fighting stance. "Face me, Grant."

"Gladly." It had been far too long since he had felt the excitement of a real battle. The piddling little dogs that crawled through Second South weren't enough to satisfy him, but Kain... Grant stomped the floor and the cavern trembled as he took up his own stance.

That was all they needed. Their eternal bond required no words, not when fists communicated so much more.

And from the start, Grant could tell something was off.

Kain lashed out with multiple quick punches before slamming his flame-wrapped foot into Grant's torso, but both lacked Kain's characteristic drive and were easily blocked. Grant responded with a heavy sweep of his own arm that - against his expectations - caught Kain right in the face. He followed it up with a powerful gut punch Kain didn't have the time to block, and he pulled back to watch his opponent's reaction.

Kain stumbled and jerked himself upright. Three feet away and Grant could still hear the rasp of breath into his lungs. He jumped back lightly, putting more distance between them, which meant - 

Grant raised his arms against the lance of flame that unfurled into icy pain, and jumped back himself just in time to avoid Kain's charge. He flicked out with an experimental light punch. That was blocked, at least, and returned with a vicious uppercut that hit Grant right in the stomach and sent him stumbling backward. So Kain wasn't entirely off his form today. Good.

They circled each other warily, Kain's eyes still bright and wild in the flickering dark. What drove him here, to Grant? Blue flame shot through the red darkness, hitting the space where Grant had been. What lingered behind his eyes? Grant came down with a kick infused with his own ki, catching Kain on the shoulder and driving him to the ground. Was it just the strain of knitting together the ravaged scraps of Geese's empire? Kain's sweep missed Grant entirely, the kind of rookie misjudgment he hadn't made in years. Or was it something else...?

Grant threw himself forward in a rushing charge that slammed Kain into the wall, pinning him beneath Grant's body. He could see Kain's face, hear his rough breath, feel his trembling body. Trembling...that wasn't the right word. Not for Kain. But even though Kain's eyes held a grim, desperate fury, his fists told another story.

"What's wrong, Kain? This isn't like you." Grant leaned forward, watching every tiny movement in Kain's face. He could read them all, but what he was reading didn't make sense.

"I can't fool you, can I?" Kain murmured, more to himself than to Grant. His eyes narrowed, like he had decided something, and he arched his back, pushing against Grant. "It doesn't matter. Face me, Grant."

"Not when you're like this!" Grant snapped, leaning all his weight against Kain's body. He could feel the rise and fall of his friend's chest under his own, the wild beat of both their hearts that was, for once in their lives, out of sync.

Kain snarled and wrenched his arm free enough to drive a savage uppercut into Grant's chin. It hit clean, cracking his teeth together and knocking his mask askew. More than the pain, Grant felt something from that punch.

There was no clearer method of communication than through one's fist. And Kain's said...

He grabbed Kain's arm and forced it against the wall; the fact that Kain let him said everything. Grant spoke calmly, with control. "Battle is a holy rite. I won't allow anyone to shame it...not even you, Kain."

"Grant!"

"But for the sake of my dearest friend...I will help you." There was no one left who could give Kain what he needed. What he wanted was a poor substitute. And still, Grant shook off his mask before leaning down and claiming Kain's lips for himself.

He attacked without mercy, using lips and teeth to crack open Kain's mouth and shove his tongue inside. Kain answered him gladly. He arched up against Grant, kissing back just as hard; he wrenched his arm free from where it was pinned and wrapped it around Grant's shoulders, dragging them so close a knife could not have fit between them. When the kiss ended he bit Grant's jaw and gripped bruises into his arms, and at last, here, he was Kain again.

Grant could feel Kain's heart hammering through his body, and now it matched the rhythm of his own.

The thought pleased him, and he let the pleasure run through his body until he ripped Kain's coat open for the joy of it. He groped roughly at the hard lines of Kain's body with only the thin fabric of his shirt between them, and soon that shirt was rucked up so Grant could feel the warmth of Kain's skin for himself. It was a dizzying rush, the heat of honest competition, a wave that flowed through him and left burning embers in its wake. Grant lifted Kain just a bit, just so he could get his thigh between Kain's legs and feel the hard flesh there, and pressed down with another vicious kiss. The flickering torches danced, reflected in Kain's blood-red eyes.

Those eyes narrowed and Kain grabbed Grant around the neck, his blue flames licking around his hands. "I have you now," he whispered and flip-kicked Grant away, a cloud of fire trailing behind his foot. Grant sailed through the air before hitting the ground with a bone-jarring thud that set his head ringing. He tasted blood in his mouth and it was sweeter than the finest wine.

Before he could do more than sit up Kain landed on top of him, slamming Grant back into the ground. He lay there, pinned by Kain's hands, watching the fire dye his friend's hair and coat a dull red. Kain leaned over him, strong and proud in his triumph, and it wrenched Grant's heart to see it. This was what Kain was meant to be, this was what he had sworn himself to, this was their ideal! This was a man who could bring the dogs of the city to heel and sweep away the weak of their rotten, decadent society, and it was an honor almost more than Grant could bear to be here, under him.

Kain's breath touched his face, and then slowly, almost gently, he ran his tongue over the scar nestled next to Grant's hair. Grant twisted, tried to jerk away, but Kain's hands held him fast. He was forced to accept it, the soft touch along the mark of his failure. Kain settled firmly on top of him, grinding their cocks together through layers of thick fabric as he shifted to the other scar, the one over Grant's eye.

Held between the hot pressure below and Kain's unnatural gentleness above, Grant froze in despicable hesitation. He wanted to hold Kain there as much as to shove him off. If they were only his own scars, bought in honourable combat, he could bear them proudly. As the marks of his near-failure... "Kain-!"

"Take care of yourself, my friend." A bitter smile flickered across Kain's face, vanishing as quickly as the sparks from the torches. "For the sake of our ideal future, I cannot afford to lose you now."

Grant didn't wait to hear any more. He rose up beneath Kain, rolling them both over until he could pin Kain to the floor himself. He used one hand to tear at Kain's pants until they opened, the other to twist in Kain's hair and hold him still as he cut off any more sentimental words with his own mouth. Kain just laughed under him, even as he dissolved into gasps when Grant took his cock firmly in hand. He bit Grant's lips, and it was impossible to tell if it was for punishment or reward.

It didn't matter. Grant jerked Kain roughly, desperately, feeling the smooth skin catch on his battle-calloused hands. All that mattered was this moment, this instant. One of Kain's hands dug into his back, the other tore at his simple belt until it could slip inside and Grant couldn't bite back a low noise at the feel of Kain's gloves on his painfully hard cock. There was no need for sentiment. He rocked his hips into Kain's hand and gave himself over to feeling. All they needed was strength, strength to conquer this town and achieve their ideals. For that, he'd sacrifice himself to gangsters, to karate, to power, as many times as it took, as long as Kain was still there to free Southtown.

Sentiment had died on that day. Now that Marie was gone-

Grant buried his face in Kain's soft hair and came with a shuddering groan. Kain was silent, the only sign of his pleasure the way his body jerked under Grant's hand. As always.

The only sounds in the cave were the crackle of the torches and their gradually slowing breath. Grant rolled off Kain and laid beside him, like they were children watching the clouds again, and waited.

It didn't take long. Kain sat up and stretched, adding the small pop of bones to the quiet. "Well," he said, his calm smile returned like it had never left.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I suppose." Kain leaned back on his hands and sighed. "My apologies for making you put up with this. I just couldn't stop remembering...back then, when we were all together..."

"It's nothing." Grant watched the shadows play across the ceiling, feeling the terrible specter of sentiment in his own chest. He allowed it one thought - _Marie would have been better, Marie could have comforted Kain, all you can do is force him back to himself and this will kill you both in time, Abel_ \- before crushing it again. Marie was gone with the past. There was no martial art that could turn back time. The only thing possible was to run forward with all your strength.

"That's true," Kain said, and Grant realised he had been speaking out loud. "Thank you, Grant. I hope to not have to trouble you again."

"I'm ready to fight at any time, my friend."

Something close to a genuine smile touched Kain's lips. "I appreciate it."

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I can only hope you enjoyed this. I've been wanting to write some Kain/Grant for awhile now, so I was happy to see and fulfill your request.
> 
>  _Clay Times_ is a real pottery magazine, though I'm not actually sure what kind of articles they have. But considering all the decorations on his stage, I think Grant would be into sculpture...
> 
> Thanks to my beta, Piinutbutter!


End file.
